


you'd make a dead man come

by valenstyne



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valenstyne/pseuds/valenstyne
Summary: There’s more than one way to stake a vampire. Metaphorically speaking.





	you'd make a dead man come

**Author's Note:**

> This is the single most self-indulgent thing I've ever written in my LIFE oh my god would you look at those tags. Not set anywhere in particular in canon, but it's literally just porn so that shouldn't matter. Features absolutely no angst and only a single brief instance of historical pedantry! _There could have been more._
> 
> …also, we're operating under a very specific and old-fashioned definition of "virginity", ahaha.

Integra buckles the strap-on harness around her hips, adjusts the leather straps until it fits comfortably. She’s keenly aware of Alucard watching from her bed, where she pushed him down a few minutes ago and ordered him to stay there while she undressed if he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. And he can _never_ keep his hands to himself. 

His eyes on her are heavy, but she makes him wait, drawing out the process of tightening the harness and settling the toy between her legs. The black silicone is smooth and hard in her palm, and she gives the shaft a few absent strokes. Alucard whines. Integra stifles a smile and presses the strap-on more firmly to her body, her other hand idly massaging her bare breasts, pleasure sparking under her skin.

“Master,” Alucard says, not quite begging, yet, but close enough to persuade Integra she’s had enough of teasing him for the moment. There are better things to do on a night when, miraculously, they have no outside obligations.

“I’d think in five hundred years you might have learned to be patient,” she says with mock severity, stalking to the bed and staring down at him. He’s stretched out long and lean and naked, glossy black hair feathered across her pillow, deceptively human until his smile bares a mouthful of fangs. “Really, you’re practically drooling.”

Alucard laughs and reaches for her. “Can you blame me? I do find you delicious.”

Integra rolls her eyes as she lets him pull her onto the bed. His hands are cold, but they won’t be for long. “I don’t know what I keep you for.”

“Then let me remind you,” he murmurs, milk-white thighs falling open in an obvious invitation. His cock is hard and huge against his stomach, and when Integra brushes it with her fingertips he hisses and curves into her touch. The hand not still holding hers lands in her hair, entices her down for a lingering kiss. She licks at the sharp points of his teeth and bites his lip, running her palm teasingly along his erection. The noise he makes is very gratifying.

“Look at you,” she says, sitting up to loom over him. He’s beautiful, flawless and deadly as her sword or any of her guns. The perfect weapon and so much more. “Count Dracula himself, about to be fucked by a mere human.”

Alucard’s eyes gleam, bright as fire. “You are no mere human, my master.”

“But I _am_ going to fuck you.”

“Please do.”

His easy submission makes Integra’s breath quicken, floods her belly with heat. She catches his wrists and pins his hands to the mattress, just because she knows he’ll let her do it. “Don’t move,” she says, and he stills obediently. “Let me get the—” Before she can finish her sentence, a tendril of shadow slithers over her shoulder, the bottle of lubricant suspended in its inky coils. She takes the bottle and gives Alucard a stern look. “I thought I told you not to move.”

“Forgive me.” The shadow caresses her arm, then dissolves. “As you said, I am not a patient creature.”

“You’re a slut, is what you are.” Integra kneels between his legs and slicks her fingers, making a bit of a show out of it just for the way his eyes follow her every movement. The first time they did this he told her preparation wasn’t necessary, and she told him to be quiet and let her do as she pleased. In her bed, he is not something to be used carelessly and cast aside afterwards.

“Well. That, too.” He bends one knee up, pressing his thigh against her hip, coaxing her closer. When she slides the first finger inside him he shivers, eager and needy, and with the second he turns his face to the pillow and moans.

Integra has never been entirely sure how much Alucard actually feels—she’s seen him take countless bullets without flinching, seen him stabbed and burned and beheaded and laughing about it—but he’s so responsive in these moments that it must be enough. She’s gentle as she strokes him from the inside, partly because tenderness is a luxury she likes to indulge in on occasion and partly because Alucard is really quite lovely when he’s frustrated. Perhaps mostly because of the latter.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, running her free hand down his flank while he writhes and tries to fuck himself on her fingers. She can sense the power in him, the ancient magic that thrums under his skin, so much strength and destructive ability and all of it completely at her mercy. No one else gets to have him the way she does.

“ _You_ ,” he growls, clutching at the bedsheets. “Inside me. _Please._ ”

Oh, God, quite lovely indeed. “I believe that could be arranged,” she says, and though her voice is even it’s only concentration that keeps her hand from trembling with excitement as she eases her fingers free. Alucard makes a pitiful sound at the loss, and this time Integra doesn’t hide her smile. She spreads lubricant over the strap-on, briefly drops her hand below the harness to where she’s wet with arousal she knows he can smell.

“ _Master._ ” He’s begging now, turning Integra’s desire into a fiery ache. She leans down to kiss him as she positions herself, savoring his wrecked, guttural groan when she sinks in and in and _in_ , filling him with one smooth continuous push. Alucard shudders, his head falling back, and she can’t resist biting the pale line of his throat hard enough to leave the blunt imprints of her teeth in his skin. He gasps, and Integra hears the sheets tear in his fist. An acceptable sacrifice.

“You can touch me,” she says, warding off any further property damage, and his hands are on her at once, cupping her breasts, grasping at her upper arms as she moves, in and out and in, again, again, torturously slow. 

“Harder,” he pleads, lifting his hips to take her deeper. “Harder, harder, _Integra_ —” 

The desperate way he says her name sends electricity crackling down her spine and between her legs, and suddenly she doesn’t want to be tender anymore. She shoves Alucard flat with her hand on his chest, sees his eyes widen with delighted anticipation when she digs her nails in, fierce and possessive over his motionless heart. Bracing herself, she pulls out, pauses for a split second, and thrusts back in as hard as she can, all restraint gone as she starts to fuck him fast and rough and ruthless. 

Violence comes to her more readily than gentleness, not a loss of control but a razor-sharp clarity like the heat of battle. Instinct spurs her on as she drives into him, the raw, predatory urge to conquer, to ravish and devour. She feels overwhelmingly powerful, knowing she is strong enough to earn the unwavering devotion of someone more like a force of nature than a man, strong enough to dominate and command with a determination equal to his own and make him want this, want her. 

And he does want her. Alucard is a gorgeous, wild thing, so willing to let Integra have her way with him and totally unashamed to show her how much he enjoys it. If he were human she’d be hurting him, but there’s no pain in the utterly wanton way he’s rocking with her brutal rhythm and panting for more. His arms wrap around her shoulders and Integra allows him to arch up and pull her into a feverish kiss, all teeth and tongue and ravenous hunger.

“You’re mine,” she says breathlessly into his mouth, seizing a handful of his hair and wrenching his head to the side so she can kiss the mark she’s already left on his neck and bite another one above it. She’s feral, vicious, hot with the cruel glee of knowing that no matter what she does to him, he can take it and he _will_. “You’re _mine_ ,” and this time her voice is a snarl.

“Yes,” Alucard rasps, “yes, my master,” breaking off with a throaty moan when Integra takes hold of his cock, stroking him in time with the merciless pace of her hips. His hands scrabble for purchase on her back and she feels the scrape of fangs when he buries his face in her shoulder. She jerks savagely on his hair and forces his mouth away from her skin, licks a thread of her own blood off his lips. He laughs, mad and joyful, bucking into her hand. 

“Come for me,” Integra orders, and he does, cock pulsing in her grip and his whole body convulsing, choking out her name. She keeps moving, chasing her own release though the way the toy rubs her isn’t enough, riding the edge of orgasm as Alucard clings to her and shakes helplessly with each thrust. It’s not until he finally collapses beneath her that she pulls out, her heart pounding in her ears as she unbuckles the harness and tosses it aside. Before she can do any more than that, Alucard’s hands are on her hips, tugging her up the bed. 

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, a request Integra has no intention of refusing, and she straddles his face and grabs the headboard as he licks her exactly the way she likes him to. Shadows slither over her body, ghostly hands fondling her breasts as his tongue dips inside her, twists and flutters around her clitoris, ripples and swirls and does things no human’s ever could. She’s close, so close, her toes curling and every muscle drawing taut, she grinds down on his mouth and oh it’s a good thing that he doesn’t need to breathe, that she can be as demanding as she wants without fear, that this absurd glorious monster wants nothing more than to _please her_ , and the world goes white at the edges as she gasps and swears and comes at last.

Alucard keeps lapping at her, delicate flicks of his tongue as Integra quivers with aftershocks and tries to catch her breath. He’d spend all night between her legs if she let him, and sometimes she does, but right now she’s oversensitive and worn out. “Enough,” she says, and he obeys with a last reverent kiss to the inside of her thigh. His shadows cradle her, catching her when she tips sideways and lowering her to the bed, laying her beside him. At some point her glasses have been knocked askew, and a wisp of darkness creeps out of her hair and politely straightens them. Integra bats it away. “Stop showing off,” she murmurs, reaching for him. 

The shadows disperse as Alucard nestles into her arms, relaxed and happy. Integra cards her fingers through his hair, strokes down his spine, her ferocity subsiding to a warm glow of satisfaction. The marks of her teeth are still on his neck, dark smudges vivid against the pallor of his skin, though they should have healed by now. She touches them lightly.

Alucard grins in response to her unspoken question. “It’s an honor to wear your colors, Countess.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Integra says, though she knows he probably means it. Without bothering to sit up, she finds her cigars on the bedside table, lights one and takes a drag. “And I’m not a countess.”

“And I’m not a count,” he returns. “Would you prefer Princess?”

She blows a stream of smoke in his face. “If you call me a princess I’ll cut out your tongue and make you eat it.”

He laughs. “I thought you were rather fond of my tongue.”

“It is one of your better features,” Integra concedes. “When you’re doing something with it besides talking.”

“Any time my master wishes,” Alucard purrs, unreasonably seductive, and Integra begins to consider that she might not be quite so tired after all. “I am _always_ at her service.”

“Let your master finish her cigar first,” Integra says. The strap-on harness is lying at the end of the bed, and she thinks she’d like to put it back on, soon. Alucard follows her line of sight and leers at her, wicked and ready, and she drops her cigar in the ashtray and kisses him, tasting herself faintly in his clever, dangerous mouth. By the time they part, his hand is on her breast and he’s hard against her hip. Integra looks into his eyes, red and inhuman and sparkling, and feels a rush of affection. “You’re mine,” she says, softly this time.

“I am yours,” Alucard replies, immediate and unhesitating. “And I intend to spend the rest of the night proving it.”

“Greedy beast,” Integra says fondly, and pulls him on top of her.


End file.
